A Sky Full of Stars and You and I
by dreamfandomist
Summary: /A sky full of stars and you and I / Two hearts that fate chose to tie/ Charles and Elsie on a star lit night


_A sky full of stars and you and I_

_Two hearts that fate chose to tie _

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"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Elsie said as she looked up at the stars that glistened against the darkness of the night sky, her eyes wide open in wonder, a shadow of enchantment upon them. A smile ghosting her lips. And Charles watched this awestruck expression of his wife with a smile as they sat on the bench in their back garden.

It was slightly chilly and a shawl was draped across Elsie's shoulders. Tendrils of her loosely tied hair reached down at the back of her neck, barely touching her shawl clad shoulders. A delightful half curl running through the lightening auburn hair. It was watching her in this moonlit night that reminded Charles that he had never asked her about that shawl, despite seeing her having it with her more times than he could count. It was a tartan pattern. The dulling colours spoke of its age, but how old it was, he couldn't tell. He wondered if it bore the colours of her family, her clan. If it had once graced the shoulders of her mother, perhaps a grandmother. But the spell that the night air and shy starlight had woven around them wasn't one he was willing to break.

"Yes, very wonderful," he replied, attempting to whisper, never taking his eyes off her. But given his rich timbre, a whisper as in what others would call a "whisper" was not something he could ever manage.

Many things about her made so much more sense to him now that they were married. Now that they shared their lives, including the little things in life that surrounded each other separately before and the little things that made them who they were.

He knew that the odd looking Chinese figurine that stood on a shelf of the cupboard in the corner of her sitting room at Downton, in front of her treasured collection of china, was a gift from an old lady in Scotland for whom she had once worked for. And he told her that the framed fish in his pantry at Downton was the last fish he ever caught as a boy before he left Downton for London, and was probably his heaviest ever. He knew how she hated getting tangles in her hair, and untangling them left her annoyed and irritated. She knew that he snored, especially during his afternoon nap, despite his many protests as attempts to prove contrary to that.

"I used to tell stories about them, the stars," Elsie said, her eyes still fixed on the vast twinkling space that stretched above them. She sighed, her smile slowly fading, like the beautiful ripples on a still lake disturbed by a pellet disappearing after a few seconds.

"To your sister?" Charles asked in a gentle voice, his head titling a little to a side, as he tightened the hold he had on his empty cup of coffee, the fingers of his other hand playing with a loose thread on his jacket.

Elsie's eyes left the stars and fixed upon an uncertain point in the garden that stretched in front of them, "Yes… to Becky. They weren't very good but… you know… she liked them." She smiled and looked at him.

A tenderness flooded his heart and constricted his throat as he searched the words to bridge his love that leapt in bounds at her, at the eyes that looked as if _they _held a thousand stars within them, "You were very good at it I suppose?"

"Oh I don't know. The girls in the village used to say that Marcail Campbell, two farms to the left, was the best story teller our age," Elsie replied, her eyes absent-mindedly drifting away from his.

And as they lost eye contact he suspected her mind drifted along the vast fields littered with thistles and sailed in the winds as it remembered wild haired farm girls telling tales in Scottish accents as they sat on the grass in a circle. Their arms stretched behind them and a grey sky with rather heavy clouds filtering the light that fell upon the deep green lochs and the slate roofs of farmhouses.

"Well, I believe Elsie Hughes was the best. Sharp tongue and piercing eyes," he commented in an amused tone and she chuckled. He winked as she looked back at him.

"Really Charles? That is not exactly flattering you know? Can't you think of a better compliment?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

And Charles bit back on a chuckle as he answered, "It is a compliment throw in the 'hands on the hips' into the picture and its perfect!"

"That is even worse!" she replied giving him one of her best stern looks.

"Not quite. Well, not at all, because it's very like a 'Mrs Hughes' or a 'Mrs Carson' and I happen to be in love with her," he laughed heartily, amused. Many were the times he had been frightened by that particular combination of features and much more were the times he thought them to be beautiful.

She cast a mock frown at him and playfully slapped his hand that was closest to her.

"Pout and frown all you like Elsie," Charles leant a bit forward towards her, "but I always found you to be very beautiful when you were angry. A bit frightened, of course," he leant a bit more closer and finished with a coarse whisper, "but very beautiful."

"Ye daft man," she shook her head, smiling to herself. But inside, she was beaming and her heart was almost bursting with a delightful brew of love, happiness, affection and joy. "How I love you," she whispered stealing a glance at him first and seeing he was watching her spell bound, he rested her gaze upon his.

"What a pity," he began and paused. Smiling at her confused expression he continued, "because I love you much, much more my Scottish lassie."

"You are a sappy romantic after all aren't you Mr Carson?" Elsie teased. She was happy of course, and a little proud too she had to admit, to know that her husband loved her as much as he did, possibly even more. But this was them, this gentle teasing, just them.

"Only for you Mrs Carson," he smiled, mirroring her teasing tone. Leaving his empty cup of coffee on the bench, he stood up and took his hand in hers.

"Dance with me?" he asked, with a short bow and urging her to stand up.

Fighting a shy smile, she rose to her feet, her shawl slipping a bit from her shoulders revealing the deeper neckline of her dress. Her pale skin illuminated in the moonlight like a soft light upon a clear ceramic.

He smiled at her, his eyes fixed on her as he thought that she looked as if a thousand stars were shining beneath her skin and a hundred fireflies too.

He held her in his arms and swayed beneath the stars without music, but to a rhythm that their souls crafted in the night, woven out of the heavenly silence that engulfed them, harmonising with their heartbeats.

A twinkling sky and two lovers.

A sky filled with stars and two hearts entwined.

**The End. **

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**Thank you so much for reading this little fic, which was pretty much a random thought that crossed my mind. I would be very grateful if you could let me know in the reviews what you thought about it. Hope you enjoyed! **


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